Human Relationships: Friendship
by jncar
Summary: After leaving Vulcan, Spock encounters many kinds of Human friendship. However, what he has yet to learn is that not all friendships are as innocent as they at first seem. Pre-Spock/Uhura.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **I played a little fast and loose with the canon timeline (as found on Memory Alpha) in order to give Spock a year and half of service onboard a starship before returning to work at the Academy. I just didn't like the idea of Spock being an entrenched academic. Much thanks to MrsTater for her excellent beta help. This is part 1 of 3.

Human Relationships: Friendship

Chapter 1

_During his early school years, Spock noticed that all the other children in his school had companions with whom they preferred to spend their free time. He deduced that these companions could be described by the Federation Standard word _friends_._

_Spock had never had a friend. _

_When the date for his bonding to T'Pring drew near, he secretly hoped that his desire for friendship would finally be fulfilled. She lived in another city, but Spock already had communications access, so maintaining a friendship would not be difficult._

_He had been told that after the bonding, his mind and T'Pring's would always be linked--always together, even when they are physically apart. That thought appealed to him. He imagined that she would be someone in whom he could confide. Someone who would understand him. Someone who would not judge him harshly for his Human heritage. This was what he wanted in a friend._

_The bonding ceremony took place in his family's traditional marriage grounds. Spock and T'Pring knelt face to face next to a fire. She appeared to be a strong and healthy girl, and Spock had seen her academic records. Her performance thus far was strong, but not exceptional. What he did not know, however, was the nature of her character. He had never spoken to her before._

_T'Pring's uncle guided them through the ceremony. He placed Spock's hands on T'Pring's face, and T'Pring's hands on Spock's face. Then he rested his own hands against their foreheads, and gently guided them through the bonding._

_T'Pring's thoughts felt like the rattling of leaves in a hard wind, and the scurrying of lizards in the sand. Spock had no conception of how to make sense of the random images and impressions he received from her, and he wondered if she was equally confused as she glimpsed his mind in return._

_Far more quickly than Spock expected, the ceremony ended. T'Pring dropped her hands to her side, and Spock did the same._

_Their parents visited quietly for a short while after the ceremony, and Spock sat next to T'Pring on a stone ledge. He was uncertain of what to say._

_He disliked his uncertainty. He expected to know her. To understand her. But instead, all he had was the constant rattling of leaves in his head. He wondered what his thoughts sounded like to her._

_"May I contact you over the communications net next week?" he finally asked._

_"Why?" Her tone was cold and disinterested._

_"I… desire to become better acquainted with you."_

_Now her thoughts were clearer to him. He discerned that she had no desire to become better acquainted. That she saw no logical purpose behind forming a relationship with him until the time of their marriage drew close. That she did not particularly like him._

_Spock was deeply disappointed. He felt an emotional reaction welling within him, and worked hastily to repress it._

_Perhaps she sensed his disappointment, for she responded, "Very well. You may contact me."_

_"Thank you."_

_She nodded, and stood to walk over to her parents._

_Spock still hoped that T'Pring might yet become his friend, but he strongly suspected that she would not._

***

Spock lifts the Bishop from its place on the three-dimensional chess board and moves it down to the next tier, effectively blocking the apparent strategy of his opponent. He tilts his head toward Captain Christopher Pike, indicating that the next turn is his.

The two men sit in recreation room four on board the scientific exploration vessel _Exeter_. They began playing regular games of chess together not long after Spock joined the crew, almost one and a half years ago. They have played a total of one hundred and twenty-two games together, and Captain Pike has not yet won. However, Spock has observed that when the Captain gives his full attention to the game, his tactics and strategies show a significant improvement since they first began playing together. He suspects that the Captain now possesses the skill to defeat any ordinary opponent.

Spock, however, is no ordinary opponent.

"Huh." Captain Pike stares at the board, rubbing his chin with his hand. "You just did something, didn't you?"

Spock has long since learned to ignore such obviously rhetorical questions. "The move is yours, Captain."

Captain Pike ultimately chooses to move his Queen in an adequate but ultimately ineffective new stratagem.

As Spock reaches for one of his Knights, the Captain speaks.

"I received a very interesting communiqué from Starfleet Academy today."

"Indeed." Spock captures one of the Captain's Rooks.

"Damn." Captain Pike scrunches his forehead as he looks at the board in what Spock has learned to be an expression of frustration or puzzlement. "Yes. It was about you, actually."

Spock raises an eyebrow. "May I inquire as to the contents of this communiqué?"

"Yes." The Captain's fingers linger on his Queen for a moment before he shifts and grabs his one remaining Bishop instead. "They're offering you a job."

This is highly unexpected news. Spock has planned on serving on the _Exeter_ for the remainder of its four-year mission. He watches as the Captain captures one of his remaining pawns.

"What manner of job?"

"The Department of Academy Computing Services needs a new Director of Special Projects. Your old friend Captain Olvedos has specifically requested you."

Spock moves his own Queen to capture the Captain's thoughtlessly moved Bishop. The Captain curses again. Spock meets the Captain's eyes. "Am I to be transferred?"

Captain Pike looks at him with a more thoughtful expression. "That's up to you. The transfer is voluntary. They actually gave me veto power, which is why they sent the communiqué to me instead of to you. But I'm going to let you decide. I'd hate to lose you, but if you think going back to the Academy is a better move for your career, then that's were you belong."

Spock nods slowly as the Captain uses his Queen to capture one of Spock's Knights.

"I will need to review the details of the position before I can make a decision."

"I understand. I'll forward you the information later tonight. I do think the job comes with a promotion to Lieutenant Commander, if that interests you."

Spock shifts his own Queen again, and looks back at the Captain. "Checkmate."

The Captain leans back in his chair. "Huh. I really thought I had you that time."

"If your design in bringing up the possibility of my transfer during a crucial moment of play was to distract me in an attempt to gain a tactical advantage, then it appears that stratagem has failed."

A grin spreads across Captain Pike's face, and he laughs out loud. "Too true." He rises to his feet, and Spock stands as well. "I'll get you those details so you can start working on your decision. I expect to hear one way or another by the time we reach Starbase 18 in two days."

Spock nods. "Understood."

The Captain's eyes linger on his face for several seconds longer than during their regular conversations. "I'm going to miss you, Lieutenant."

Spock finds this statement odd, considering he has not yet made his decision.

Two days later, when he disembarks from the _Exeter_ at Starbase 18 to catch the transport to Earth, he remembers the Captain's statement, and marvels--not for the first time--at the oddly prescient insights of many humans. He wonders if, had he been raised as a human, in touch with his human emotions, he would have had access to similar insights.

***

Spock takes a two day leave on Vulcan before going to Earth. He has not seen his parents since his graduation from the Academy, and his mother greets him with moist eyes and a tight embrace. He indulges her by wrapping his arms lightly about her shoulders, but is relieved when she steps back and he can return his hands to his sides.

His father greets him with a somber nod, which Spock returns.

After dinner Sarek vanishes to his study, and Amanda dominates the conversation. Spock doesn't mind. He has always enjoyed the sound of his mother's voice.

"So are you really ready to go back to cool and damp San Francisco?" she asks.

"It is still far preferable to Seattle," he teases. After three years at the Academy he eventually attempted teasing and humor with his friends, but his mother is still the only person with whom he feels entirely comfortable employing such conversational tactics.

She smiles. "I suppose it is. But I do expect you to go up to Seattle once in a while to visit your uncle and cousins." She wags her finger at him.

Spock never got along well with his mother's brother or his two daughters, but he understands his mother's desire to maintain her familial relationship by using him as a surrogate, so he agrees to pay an obligatory visit to them upon his arrival.

They talk late into the night, until his mother is at last too sleepy to remain awake. Before retiring to her chamber, she rests her hand lightly on his cheek. Her hand is cool and smooth, and calls up many pleasant associations from his childhood which he would never have indulged in had he not been quite tired himself.

"I wish you could stay longer," she says. "I miss my little boy."

He ignores the absurdity of the diminutive and replies, "I cannot. I believe father would consider a longer visit an unnecessary intrusion upon his privacy."

His mother frowns. "He's a damn stubborn man sometimes. He sees all that you've accomplished in such a short span of time, yet he still refuses to acknowledge that you made the right decision when you joined Starfleet."

The relationship between Spock and his father has been strained and minimal ever since Spock's rejection of admittance to the Vulcan Science Academy. Spock has grown accustomed to the state of his relationship with his father and sees no logical need to attempt to change it, but he regrets that it continues to cause pain to his mother.

"I do not think a lengthier visit would alter his opinions in any way."

His mother closes her eyes and nods. "I suppose you're right." She sighs. "He'll come around someday. I'll just have to be patient." She looks back up at her son. "Patience is something I've gotten very good at over the years."

The corner of Spock's mouth ticks up. "I would go so far as to call you an expert on the subject."

She laughs, and Spock allows himself to enjoy the sound of her laughter.

She wraps her arms around him again, and Spock gently pats her back. "I love you, Spock."

He releases her, and nods. "Good night, Mother."

***

Three months after assuming his new position at Starfleet Academy, Spock sits across the desk from Commodore Ripley, the Chair of the xenolinguistics department.

She narrows her eyes at him. "So," she says, "_you_ want to teach courses in Vulcan and Romulan phonology?"

He inclines his head. "That is correct."

She squints her eyes closed and shakes her head briefly before looking at him again. "But… you work in the Campus Computing Services department."

"That is also correct. However, as my résumé clearly indicates, I speak all five Vulcan dialects with expert fluency, and possess near-expert fluency in all three major Romulan dialects as well. Likewise, phonology was one of my areas of expertise in my studies on Vulcan as well as here at the Academy." He dislikes rehearsing the contents of his résumé, but it is clear that the Commodore harbors pre-conceived notions regarding the capabilities of computer experts.

She pushes her short white hair behind her ears and picks up the PADD displaying Spock's résumé. She peruses it for several moments, moving her lips silently. "It says here that phonology was one of--four?--minors that you achieved here at the Academy?"

Spock nods. "Yes. I considered making it one of my majors, but upon the advice of my academic advisor, I concluded that more than three majors was not feasible if I wanted to graduate in the normal four years."

Commodore Ripley gives him a pointed stare. "I see."

"I assure you that I keep abreast of all the latest advances in the field of phonology by way of academic journals, and I completed two distance-learning courses in Romulan dialects during my time aboard the _Exeter_ in order to improve my fluency."

The Commodore nods. "I can see that your qualifications are not in question. What _is_ in question is: _why_? Why do you, Director of Special Projects for the Campus Computing Services department, want to teach phonology? Don't your duties keep you busy enough?"

Spock senses that he is beginning to make headway. "That is precisely the problem. My primary duties generally require my attention for approximately six point four hours of every day. As I require only three to four hours of sleep nightly, I find myself with an excess of free time, and I would prefer to fill that time with pursuits that benefit the entire Academy--not merely myself. As I was unable to devote the time I desired to phonology during my studies here, I thought that perhaps I could now spend my time teaching this subject which I find highly fascinating."

Commodore Ripley stares at him, running her eyes over him in a manner that he believes can be termed "sizing him up."

"Very well, Lieutenant Commander," she says, straightening her back and resting her hands on the desk. "Captains Varik and Wright are my current Vulcan and Romulan Phonology instructors, and they have been feeling rather overloaded the past few semesters. Starting this fall you may assist them and their teaching assistants in the xenolinguistics lab, as well as on any research projects they need extra help with. If that goes well, then next winter I will, based on their needs and recommendations, assign you one or two sections to teach. Is this arrangement acceptable to you?"

Spock nods. The Commodore's decision to give him a trial-period is logical, and he approves of her reasoning. He has no doubt that he will be teaching courses by winter. "Yes. Perfectly acceptable."

***

In late September, Spock is walking across campus when an unfamiliar voice catches his attention.

"Excuse me, Sir. May I ask you a question?"

The most surprising thing about the inquiry is that it is spoken in perfect Vulcan--and not even the dialect most commonly taught at the Academy, but in the dialect of his home province.

He turns to face the unknown person speaking to him, more than half expecting to see another Vulcan standing there. He is surprised when instead he sees a human girl dressed in form-fitting civilian clothes, and looking no older than a first-year cadet. Her brown hair cascades down her back in a plethora of tiny braids, accented here and there with beads of semi-precious stones, and large gold hoops dangle from her ears. A slight smile graces her warm burnt umber face.

He raises an eyebrow at the girl, and replies in the same Vulcan dialect. "Yes, you may."

"Thank you, Sir. I was wondering if you could direct me to the xenolinguistics building?" She continues to speak in his native dialect.

"You are not a cadet?" he asks, surprised yet again.

She shakes her head. "No. I am in the process of applying for admittance and decided to come visit the campus."

"Indeed." Spock inclines his head. "If you follow this path northwest between the engineering and computing buildings," he points, "you will arrive at another quad. The xenolinguistics building is on the east side of the quad, and is clearly labeled."

"Thank you, Sir."

"It was no imposition. Might I remark that your command of this dialect is far superior to that of any other human I have encountered?"

Her smile spreads a little wider. "Thank you. I just graduated from the Gevar Language Institute on Deneva Prime. My teachers there were excellent."

"The reputation of that institute is well known here at the Academy. And, if all of its graduates are as proficient as you, that reputation is well deserved."

She glances down in apparent embarrassment, and shakes her head. He cannot help but notice that she is a remarkably aesthetically pleasing young woman.

"Thank you. I do try my best."

He takes a step closer to her. "Did you choose to speak in my native dialect purposefully, or was this a coincidence?"

"It was an educated guess, Sir. I spent six months on Vulcan as part of an educational exchange program when I was fourteen, and I learned to recognize the regional variations in Vulcan appearance." She clasps her hands behind her back and straightens her spine.

Spock can see that the girl has good reason to be confidant in her abilities. Clearly she has pursued a study of Vulcan language since her early youth--an unusual thing among humans.

"Fascinating. In my experience, most humans believe that all Vulcans look alike."

Her lips tighten into a narrower grin. "Then most humans are willfully ignorant, Sir."

Almost against his will the corners of his mouth twitch upward. Her statement was uncannily reminiscent of many things his mother has said in the past.

"I am Lieutenant Commander Spock," he says. "What is your name?"

"Uhura. Nyota Uhura, Sir."

Though this encounter has already diverted him from his normal routine for approximately four point two five minutes, Spock desires to learn more about this singular young woman.

"Miss Uhura, are you expected at the xenolinguistics building?"

She shakes her head. "No. I'm not really on a schedule. I'm just guiding myself around."

"My duties do not require me to return to my office for four point three hours. I would be willing to take you to the xenolinguistics building and introduce you to some of the faculty, if you desire it."

She raises her eyebrows in surprise, but fortunately refrains from making any apologetic comments about inconveniencing him. He is pleased to see that her knowledge of Vulcan culture is sufficient for her to be aware of the pointlessness of such a human reply. "I appreciate your offer, Commander, and will gladly accept it. Do you work in the xenolinguistics department?"

He gestures for her to begin walking, and they head in the direction of the xenolinguistics building. "I am currently assisting several of the xenolinguistics teachers with ongoing projects, and expect to teach a course in Vulcan and Romulan phonology during the winter term. However, my primary duties are with the Campus Computing Services department."

If she is surprised, she does not show it. She merely nods and says, "You have a wide range of skills."

"I have many interests."

He introduces Miss Uhura to several faculty members, including Commodore Ripley, and they are all equally impressed with her abilities.

After a tour of the xenolinguistics department, Spock takes her to lunch at a small café neighboring the campus. She tells him the details of her rather impressive education, and tells him about the internship that she will soon begin at the Mogadishu Regional Communications Center in the United States of Africa.

Spock finds her credentials and education almost as impressive as if she had been a Vulcan.

He spends several more hours with her, giving her a tour of campus. As the time draws near for him to return to his office for his daily departmental status meeting, he is seized with a sudden impulse.

"Miss Uhura, I would be pleased to provide you with an Officer's recommendation for your application, if you are still in need."

She seems momentarily taken aback, but then, logically, accepts his offer. He tells her his electronic messaging address, and she agrees to send him her academic and professional résumé within the week.

"Thank you, Commander," she says before they part. "This has been an enjoyable and educational meeting."

"I concur. I am certain you will perform above expectations once you enter the Academy. I look forward to tracking your career." And he genuinely does. Few cadets--even his own classmates--have ever impressed him as much as Nyota Uhura.

She sends him her résumé and a letter of appreciation three days later, and he composes a strong recommendation for her to include in her application.

He does not hear from her again until April, when he receives an announcement of her acceptance and another expression of appreciation for the recommendation and the time he spent with her.

He is pleased that she will be attending the Academy, but does not think of her again for several months, as he is now busy teaching phonology courses in addition to his duties in the Computing Services department.

When he sees her again in the fall, during the freshman orientation week prior to the start of the semester, she catches his eye from across a quad. Though she is in a large group of new cadets, all wearing their matching red uniforms, she still stands out from the crowd.

When she sees that he has noticed her, she smiles broadly, and nods in greeting. He nods in return, and feels an odd stirring of pleasure to see her again. He expects that Cadet Uhura will achieve great things before she leaves the Academy.

Even after he returns to his apartment, she lingers in his mind in a most illogical fashion. But the strange lapse is easily cured by half an hour of meditation.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **Thanks for all the great reviews! I'm sorry I don't always have time to personally reply, but I really do appreciate them. And thanks again to MrsTater for beta reading.

Chapter Two

_For many years Spock spoke with T'Pring regularly, once every month. Her thoughts had settled considerably in his mind in the years following the betrothal ceremony. Eventually the touch of her mind against his began to feel like the tinkling of chimes in a gentle breeze._

_Spock's conversations with T'Pring were brief, and were generally restricted to reports of their academic progress or of local events of note. They never did become what Spock imagined friends to be, but he was nonetheless satisfied to have a relationship with someone other than his classmates. He still had no friends among them, and several of them began to deliberately attempt to provoke emotional reactions from him. Their actions had no logical basis, but Spock was unable to dissuade them._

_One day, after class, they succeeded._

_Spock was deeply unsettled by his outburst, and after a conversation with his father he was also deeply ashamed. He had disappointed Sarek again._

_He was meditating in his room, striving to calm the emotions that still threatened to well up from the dark corners of his mind, when his mother informed him that T'Pring had called for him._

_This was the first time she had ever initiated communication, and his interest was piqued. Perhaps she felt his distress and was calling to support him, like his mother supported his father. That was what a true friend would do._

_"Spock, I perceived your lack of emotional control today," she said, her face a blank mask on the screen. "It disturbed me during my music lessons, and I performed far below my normal capabilities. Please refrain from such emotional outbursts in the future."_

_Spock was stunned into silence. As he stared back at her, her eyes drifted to his lip--green, swollen, and scabbed._

_"I suspected you had engaged in physical violence. I see that I was correct. This is a troubling occurrence. I disapprove of you engaging in such actions. If you continue, it will reflect poorly on me."_

_Spock felt a surge of sorrow, frustration, and anger. She winced as their bond conveyed his emotions to her._

_"Control yourself, Spock," she said. "I wish to sleep peacefully tonight."_

_"I…" he struggled to calm his emotions. "I will attempt to do so. You have my apologies, T'Pring."_

_She nodded, and cut off the communication._

_Spock returned to his meditation, striving to push the emotions of the day as far back in his mind as he possibly could._

_After that month he reduced his communications with T'Pring to twice a year._

***

After knowing Commodore Ripley for more than a year, Spock has learned many things about her--including her love of music. So, in October when the Academy Chorale Ensemble presents their first of several yearly concerts, he invites her to join him. She tells him that she has attended every Chorale concert for sixteen years, and she would be glad to join him. She even admits to singing in the Chorale herself, many many years ago.

They sit fifteen rows from the front of the concert hall. Spock notices that the hall is in need of several key acoustical upgrades, and makes a mental note to report the deficiency to the Physical Facilities department.

As the stage lights come up, it takes only seconds for Spock to pick Cadet Uhura's face out of the large group. She stands in the third row, five positions from the left. She has changed her hair since they first met. It is no longer in braids, but falls in loose ringlets that dangle just below her chin.

As the concert begins, he sets about identifying individual voices and matching them to their owners. It is a most engaging exercise, and he is gratified when he at last identifies Uhura's voice. There is great clarity and control in her performance, and he is pleased to see that her talents extend to this arena.

In the seventh song she steps forward to perform a short solo and Spock ceases to analyze, allowing himself to merely enjoy the performance. Her voice lacks the expert polish of some singers, but it is has an extremely pleasant tonal quality and is thick with emotional expression. When she steps back into the group, Commodore Ripley leans over to mutter softly in his ear.

"Your protégé has a lovely voice."

Spock ponders her comment for the rest of the evening. He never would have ascribed the word _protégé _to Cadet Uhura, but he concludes that there is sound reason to do so. He was the one who introduced her to the faculty and provided her letter of recommendation, and he has consulted her current instructors to inquire after her performance--which, as he expected, is exceptional.

After he returns to his apartment, he ponders his new insight into his relationship with Cadet Uhura. Of the many types of friendships available, one that Spock has not yet experienced is that of acting as a mentor to a younger person. Perhaps he will have such an opportunity with Uhura. It would be a fascinating experience.

***

Spock does not expect to have Cadet Uhura in his class her first year. However, Captain Varik is so impressed with her competency in Vulcan, Romulan, and Intermediate Phonology that he approves skipping her ahead in those subjects. Spock is pleased when Captain Varik informs him of this development. He is eager to see if he can indeed step into the role of mentor.

In January, on the first day of class, Uhura arrives five point two minutes early and sits in the center of the front row of the lecture hall. Now her hair is straight, and hangs just below her shoulders.

He approaches her. "Welcome to class, Cadet."

"Hello, Commander. I'm glad I finally get to take your class." She smiles in a pleasing fashion, and Spock chooses to ignore the hyperbole in her statement.

"I am pleased to have you here. Though I have no doubts regarding your competency with the subject matters of this course, as a first year cadet you may be less familiar with the standard methods applied in this department. If you ever feel in need of additional tutoring or instruction, do not hesitate to visit my office. I am at your disposal." He believes that such an invitation may be sufficient to establish a basis for a mentor/mentee relationship. Now he must wait and see if she accepts.

"I appreciate your offer, Commander. If I ever need help, I'll definitely stop by."

The first class goes well, and Cadet Uhura proves that her natural talents are complimented by a determination to excel when she frequently and astutely participates in the class discussion.

At the end of the week, Uhura appears at his office door in the mid-afternoon.

He rises to his feet. "Please, enter." He gestures at the chairs in front of his desk. "Be seated."

"Thank you, Commander."

Today her earrings are long strings of pale blue crystalline beads, and he notices the way they sway and brush against the sides of her face as she sits.

"How may I be of assistance?" he asks.

"Well--I know you told me I could come here for extra help with your class, but I was actually wondering if you could help me with another project instead."

Spock raises an eyebrow. "What manner of project?"

Her hands clasp tightly in her lap, and her eyes dart downward. Both gestures are signs that Spock has come to recognize as tokens of mild anxiety. He dislikes that she feels such anxiety around him.

"Well," she says, still not meeting his eyes, "I tested out of all the Romulan language courses here at the Academy. And while I do have a high level of comprehension, my spoken fluency is still weak, and I have some serious difficulties with pronunciation. I've tried the TAs in the Language Learning Lab, and in the Xenolinguistics Lab, but none of them speak any better than I do. However…" Her eyes finally dart up to meet his. "Captain Varik told me that you are the most accomplished Romulan speaker at the Academy. I know this isn't what you had in mind when you offered extra tutoring, but I really need practice speaking Romulan with someone who knows what they're doing. Would you be willing to practice with me?"

Spock feels a great deal of satisfaction that she is already to willing to request his assistance with a project beyond the purview of his course. And he is impressed that she is eager to pursue personal studies above and beyond her Academy requirements. He has met few Human cadets who were sufficiently committed to their fields of study to pursue independent studies beyond their course-work.

"I am perfectly willing to accommodate your need for additional practice. It is commendable of you to desire to improve your skills beyond the ability of the Academy's resources to teach you. And a thorough knowledge of the Romulan languages will be a notable asset to any vessel on which you are privileged to serve."

Her smile--which he is beginning to enjoy in a most illogical fashion--brightens. "Thank you so much, Commander! I was worried that you would be too busy."

"Not at all. I will endeavor to assure that there will always be room in my schedule for you, Cadet Uhura."

They schedule a weekly meeting time, and Uhura thanks him again before leaving.

He experiences a very agreeable sense of satisfaction as he watches her depart. His goal to achieve a mentoring relationship with her is off to a very good start.

***

The tutoring sessions with Cadet Uhura go far better than Spock ever could have predicted. Though her Romulan speech is halting and labored in their early conversations, she improves quickly.

To add an extra level of challenge to their sessions, Spock suggests that they discuss her other courses while speaking in Romulan. The experiment proves highly useful, as he is able to assist her with her required Engineering Survey course. Uhura sheepishly admits to having weaknesses in her mechanical aptitude. She seems to believe that he will somehow think less of her because of her deficiency.

Spock is quick to reassure her that such is not the case--most Humans who excel in one or two areas will have significant weaknesses in others. He is surprised when, after his statement, she laughs.

His eyebrow shoots up. "I fail to discern the humor in my statement."

"It's not your statement," she says, her helical golden earrings swaying and shining in the sunlight streaming through his office window. "It's you--your whole attitude. Is that really how you look at the world? At the people around you? Like a scientist analyzing a set of complex variables so that you can arrive at correct conclusions?"

He is taken aback. Even while a small part of his mind registers admiration for her ability to get through her entire comment in Romulan with very few pronunciation errors, the remainder of his mind is puzzled and slightly disturbed by the content of her speech.

"I do spend considerable time observing and interpreting the behavior of the people around me before drawing conclusions regarding the characteristics of individuals or groups. I never thought of such behavior as scientific observation. I considered it to be common sense. Is it not prudent to establish a baseline of understanding others through careful observation and thoughtful analysis?"

This statement merely provokes more laughter. "That's exactly what I meant," she says.

He furrows his brow. "So--you do not view the people around you in this manner?"

She shakes her head, and more rays of light bounce off of her earrings. "No. I don't. I just… follow my gut. My instincts."

Spock is familiar with this concept. Captain Pike once explained it to him.

"Don't you ever have deep, instinctual impressions and impulses?" she asks.

She made several more pronunciation errors in her query which Spock knows he ought to correct; however, the content of her question is of more immediate interest.

"I believe that I _do_ have what Humans call _gut reactions_ or _instincts._ I simply ignore them. I learned long ago that such feelings derive almost exclusively from a combination of irrational emotions and hormone-based physical imperatives. As such, part of my mental training involved the suppression of such feelings."

Her smile fades, and her eyes flick over his face as if she is searching for something, though he cannot imagine what. Her lips part slightly, as if she wants to say something more, but she does not speak.

"Cadet? Was there something more you wished say on this topic?"

"Yes." Her features assume a stronger, firmer expression. "I was curious if, given your heritage, you'd ever tried exploring your more Human instincts and feelings?"

Not since his time as a cadet has someone confronted Spock so directly regarding his Human heritage. He finds her directness refreshing.

"I was raised as a Vulcan, respecting and living by Vulcan traditions and values. When I first came to live on Earth, I did make a few brief attempts to explore my Human nature, but I found the experiences to be highly uncomfortable, and I chose to continue to honor my upbringing."

"Hmm." She scrunches her forehead. "Perhaps that was because being Human very often _is_ highly uncomfortable."

He finds that he has no adequate response.

She shakes her head and the corners of her mouth turn up. "I apologize for the tangent, Commander. I believe we were discussing my Engineering Survey?"

Spock agrees, but before returning to their discussion he takes a few moments to correct the pronunciation errors he noticed during their conversation.

The remainder of their session is unremarkable, but their conversation lingers in his mind for days.

****

In early April Spock receives an unexpected communication from Captain Pike. He raises his eyebrows in surprise when the Captain's face appears on his communications screen.

"Hello, Mr. Spock," says the Captain. "I was wondering if you'd like to join me for lunch tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow? I thought that the Exeter was not scheduled to return to Earth until July."

"We came home early so that I could start my new job." The Captain grins. Clearly he is pleased to have succeeded in surprising Spock.

"Will you be receiving a new command?"

"Not yet. For the time being I'll be dividing my time between Starfleet Command and the Academy."

Spock has no intention of revealing further signs of surprise. Instead, he simply inclines his head. "It will be most agreeable to see you again, Captain."

Captain Pike grins and chuckles. "You might want to dust off your old chess set. I think it's time for a rematch."

The next day Spock shares a satisfactory lunch with the Captain. It is agreeable to relate stories of the years since they last served together.

As they finish their meal, Captain Pike looks at Spock with a tight smile on his face. "So, you're probably wondering why I've accepted a desk job."

The question had crossed Spock's mind, as the Captain had frequently made his disdain of such positions known. However, Spock never would have thought to voice such an inquiry.

Captain Pike needs no verbal response to continue. "It's because it's only temporary. I'll be back in space in just over three years. Have you heard of the _Enterprise_?"

It is obvious from the Captain's tone that he is not referring to any of the historical vessels bearing that moniker, but rather the new starship on which primary construction was initiated during the previous November.

"I have."

The Captain's smile spreads into a grin, and he nods. "She'll be mine. And I get to stay here and watch her come to life. That's worth a three-year desk job."

Spock is impressed. "Congratulations, Captain. I have heard it rumored that the _Enterprise_ is destined to be named the new flagship of the fleet."

"Well," says the Captian, leaning forward, "officially I can neither confirm nor deny that particular rumor. So let me just say--I am very, _very_ happy to be getting this job." He winks.

"You know, Spock," the Captain continues, "I can't accept any applications for service aboard the _Enterprise_, yet. But when I can, I'd really like you to be my Science Officer."

"That is a most intriguing proposition. I am highly satisfied with my work here at the Academy, but I cannot deny that I would very much enjoy another chance to participate in deep space exploration and scientific experimentation. Nearly all of the most fascinating new research and discoveries in recent years come from the science teams aboard Starfleet vessels."

"And you'd like to be a part of it." Captain Pike sips his beer, and then holds up his glass in a mock salute. "I knew you couldn't resist the chance."

Spock nods. "Once you are ready to accept applications, I assure you that mine will be one of the first you receive."

***

Spock and Uhura hold their final study session together just before the week of final exams. He is deeply impressed with her progress, and suggests that they resume their sessions together in the fall.

"I'd like that very much," says Uhura, her pearlescent tear-drop earrings dancing appealingly by the sides of her face.

"There is something else I would like you to consider for the fall," he replies.

"What?"

He rests his forearms on his legs, folding his fingers together. "I have been asked to teach a course on interspecies ethics in the fall, and with that additional responsibility I am concerned that I will not have sufficient time in my schedule to complete all of the planning or marking for my phonology sections. I have asked Commodore Ripley if I may take on a teaching assistant in the fall, and she has agreed." He paused, catching Uhura's eyes with a steady gaze. "If you are interested, I would like you to serve as my teaching assistant."

Her eyes widen by several millimeters. "But second year cadets are _never_ TAs."

Spock is mildly amused by her obvious shock. "That statement is factually incorrect. Second year cadets are rarely TAs, but it is not unheard of. And in this particular field you are as qualified as any of my fourth year students. We work well together, and I believe that your assistance would be a valuable asset both to me, and to my students."

Her expression breaks into a smile, and she shakes her head a little. "Well, since you put it that way, I accept."

***

Over the summer, without the distraction of classes and students, Spock turns his attention to the latest special project assigned to his team in Campus Computing Services. They are to design a simulation test for command-track students that will gauge their discipline, character, and command capabilities when commanding a vessel in a no-win situation.

Spock asks Captain Pike to consult on the design, as the Captain has been a scholar of Starfleet no-win scenarios ever since writing his dissertation on the destruction of the _Kelvin_.

For most of the summer, Spock divides his time between working with his programming team, and meeting with Captain Pike and his other consultants. Though he is busy, he is grateful for the three short letters he receives from Cadet Uhura describing her internship at the Spacedock Communications Relay Center. He is pleased to see that she continues to work toward her goals with ambition and determination.

One day in mid-July, Captain Pike and Spock stroll through the campus together after one of their meetings.

"I'll be leaving on a recruiting tour the fifth of August," says the Captain. "I'm supposed to go around to high schools and universities with a group of our best and brightest cadets to tout the glory of joining Starfleet." He shakes his head. "It's not exactly my idea of a good time, but when the Admirals say jump, I jump. So, do you know any cadets who might be interested in ending their summer break a little early to come do this song and dance with me?"

Spock knows exactly who to recommend.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **Again, thank you to everyone who left a review. I'm sorry I haven't had time for personal replies, but I really appreciate your support. And thank you to MrsTater for beta reading.

Chapter 3

_A week before Spock's departure for Starfleet Academy he made one final call to T'Pring. Her thoughts had settled even more over the years. When he felt her presence at all, it was something akin to a faint breeze caressing his face._

_"Your decision not to attend the Science Academy is most illogical," she said._

_"I am aware of that perception. However, I am confident with my choice, and look forward to my Starfleet career."_

_T'Pring studied his face, and for a moment he thought he could feel her mind reaching out to him--searching. For a fleeting moment he wanted her to come see him in person for the first time since their bonding. He wanted her to ask him not to leave. He wanted her to _care_._

_"I accept your decision. Live long and prosper, Spock."_

_He controlled his disappointment before responding. "Live long and prosper, T'Pring."_

_After his first three days in the dorms at Starfleet Academy, Spock began to agree with T'Pring's assessment--his decision to come to Earth seemed very illogical. Though Spock had made several extended visits to Earth in the past with his parents, he always stayed in a Vulcan embassy or consulate, surrounded by other Vulcans. The experiences were wholly inadequate to prepare him for actually living among humans on his own._

_The noise, the chaos, the clutter, and the ever-present irrationality were almost overwhelming. He began to wonder if he had made a mistake._

_He was fortunate in his roommate, a soft spoken and intellectually inclined young human specializing in xenobiology named Chin-Hwa Pong._

_On the evening of their third day as roommates, Spock sat on his bed trying to meditate, but the noise from the halls was far too distracting._

_Chin-Hwa spoke. "If all this partying doesn't settle down in a week or two, I don't know how I'm going to keep my grades up."_

_Spock looked over at his roommate. "I concur. I have no understanding of how such unruly young men and women were ever considered capable of serving as Starfleet Cadets."_

_Unexpectedly, Chin-Hwa laughed. "No kidding. But the real problem is these rooms. The sound-proofing is almost non-existent."_

_"Recently, I read of a new transparent nanofiber resin that was developed to provide lightweight, space-saving soundproofing insulation aboard starships. It seems that it would require relatively little time or effort to upgrade the dormitories with such a material."_

_"Yeah," replied Chin-Hwa. "Hey--you know, I have a cousin who works in new materials research and development for Starfleet. I wonder if he can get his hands on some of that resin for us."_

_Spock raised an eyebrow. "It seems an endeavor worthy of further inquiry."_

_Three days later Chin-Hwa received a small parcel from his cousin--it was the resin. Spock and Chin-Hwa pushed all of their furniture and belongings to the center of the room and carefully brushed a thin layer of the resin over their walls, ceiling, and door. The effort took them more than six hours._

_Once the resin dried they pushed the furniture back where it belonged. The room looked perfectly normal, as if nothing had been done at all._

_"How can we tell if it's working?" asked Chin-Hwa._

_"Simple." Spock strode to the door and opened it. A sudden barrage of noise flooded their room. Spock stepped back inside and closed the door. The sound ceased immediately._

_Chin-Hwa started to laugh. "Perfect!"_

_Spock nodded. "The results are most satisfactory."_

_The next day, Chin-Hwa invited Spock to sit with him at lunch in the cafeteria. Soon, they and a small group of fellow cadets were eating almost every meal together._

_Three weeks later, when Spock told his mother about Chin-Hwa, she said, "I'm so happy that you've made a friend! I was so worried you'd be lonely without me."_

_Spock was startled. It had not even occurred to him that, for the first time in his life, he had a friend. _

***

Spock knows that while visiting cadets in their dormitories is not against regulation, it is certainly not looked on favorably. However, his concern for Cadet Uhura's well-being currently overrides his sense of propriety.

"Enter!" her voice calls over the intercom shortly after he pushes her door-chime.

The door slides open, and Spock steps inside, navigating around the entryway partition and back into the sleeping area. As soon as Uhura sees him, her eyes widen and she leaps to her feet from where she sat reclining on her bed.

"Commander--what are you…? I wasn't expecting you." Uhura's hair is longer by approximately three inches than when he last saw her, and is tucked behind her ears, which are adorned by simple silver hoops. She wears tight gray leggings and a loose, wide-necked tunic of thin white fabric. Her tunic has slid to one side, baring her shoulder and revealing the thin red strap of her bra. Her feet are bare, and the toenails of one foot are painted a deep purple, while the nails of the other foot are unpainted. A small container of nail polish sits on her bedside table.

He has never seen her in such casual attire before, and he halts, momentarily at a loss for words as his eyes take in every detail of her appearance, the rate of his heartbeat inexplicably increasing. Quickly he recovers from his surprise and straightens his stance, clasping his hands behind his back.

"I apologize for intruding on your privacy."

"No! No. Don't worry about it." She waves her hands in front of her and smiles.

He relaxes slightly. "Captain Pike just informed me of the altercation last night, and I came to inquire after your well-being."

Her face softens into a mysterious smile unlike any he has seen her wear before. "You were worried about me?"

Concerned, certainly, but Spock is unsure if he would go so far as to say _worried._ "As you were traveling with Captain Pike on my recommendation, I bear some responsibility for your safety. I trust you are unharmed?"

The Captain was unspecific about the exact nature of the bar fight, but he had said that it began when one of the local patrons made unwanted advances on Cadet Uhura, and that several cadets received minor injuries. The thought of Uhura coming to harm in a fistfight fills Spock with unpleasant tension.

The soft smile on her face transforms into a tight-lipped grin. "I'm fine. I can take care of myself."

"I did not intend to imply otherwise."

She closes her eyes and shakes her head a little before looking back up at him. "Of course you didn't. I'm sorry. It's just that I was one of only three female cadets on Captain Pike's recruitment tour, and after the first few days all the boys started developing some sort of chivalry complex or something."

Spock raises an eyebrow. "Is chivalry not a synonym for courtesy?"

Uhura tilts her head and shrugs. "Kind of--but it's more than just courtesy. It's…it's putting women up on a pedestal and treating them like something special that needs to be cared for and protected." She looks him in the eye and wags a pointed finger. "And I will not be put on some damn pedestal just so a bunch of oversexed cadets can feel manly and heroic. I'm training to be an officer, not a damsel in distress who needs rescuing."

Spock is beginning to understand. "So the root of your problem is the attitude of protectiveness and exaggerated deference exhibited by the male cadets in your company? It sounds as though their behavior indicated a lack of faith in your ability to care for yourself, thereby demonstrating disrespect for your capabilities."

"Exactly. It's the twenty-third century, for God's sake. You'd think men would realize by now that women are more than just fragile creatures that needed guidance and protection. The guy at the bar was just hitting on me. He didn't do anything out of line. And those Neanderthals in cadets' uniforms decided to kick his ass to prove themselves to me, or some other sort of equally ridiculous motive."

Spock furrows his brow. "It is most unfortunate that some of our cadets continue to exhibit such a striking lack of social intelligence."

She laughs, and the sound of it relaxes him. It has been too long since he heard the sound of her laughter. She sits back down on her bed, and gestures at the other bed.

"Have a seat. My roommate's not back from summer break yet, so this is probably one of the last times this year her side of the room will actually be clean."

Spock gingerly lowers himself to the edge of the crisply-made bed, and sits with a stiff spine. "Did your fellow cadets' behavior cause you to regret ending your internship early in order to accompany Captain Pike?"

"Not at all. I was glad for the chance to get to know the Captain. He's an amazing officer. And we got a chance to visit the shipyard in Iowa to see the _Enterprise._ She's going to be beautiful."

Spock nods. "I have reviewed the plans for the ship. It will be the most exceptional vessel in the fleet."

"And," Uhura leans forward, "rumor has it that Pike is going to be her first Captain. You're his friend. Has he said anything to you?"

He can see the eagerness on her face. It is clear that she harbors interest in a posting on the _Enterprise_, and Spock experiences a sensation of pleased anticipation at the thought that they may someday serve together on that vessel. "He has indeed been selected to serve as captain of the _Enterprise._ I am certain that you made a positive impression on him. When the time comes to assign a crew to the ship, I have no doubt that your experience in his company will increase your likelihood of obtaining a post aboard the _Enterprise._"

The grin on her face is positively childlike. He has never seen her so excited.

"Thank you so much for recommending me for the recruiting tour. Anything to help me get a spot on the _Enterprise_. I don't think I've ever wanted anything more than I want a place on that ship."

"If your academic performance continues at its current level, I am virtually certain that you will have your wish."

She grins some more, and Spock is pleased to have been the source of her delight.

He is tempted to stay with her longer, but he is concerned that spending too much unchaperoned time in a cadet's living quarters would be unwise. "I must excuse myself. Now that I am assured of your state of good health, I must return to my work. I have much preparation to complete before the semester begins."

She seems to understand. "Okay. When should I start work? I'm free all day every day until classes begin next week. I could help you prep for the semester, if you need it."

He ponders her request for a moment. He does not technically require her assistance; however, he admits to himself that her company would be pleasant. "Are you available at fourteen hundred hours tomorrow?"

"I am. Should I meet you at your office?"

He nods. "That would be ideal."

They say goodbye, and he leaves her room wondering why he felt such urgency to see her in the first place. If she had been injured Captain Pike surely would have informed him. But it was undeniably agreeable to see her again. He has no doubt that working with her all year will be a highly satisfying experience.

***

The new semester progresses in a highly agreeable manner. Spock's new class on interspecies ethics proves an intellectually exciting challenge. The first trials of his no-win scenario simulation test are highly successful. And, most of all, working with Uhura every day is extremely rewarding.

The very first week of their work together, she initiates the practice of speaking different dialects together every day. Some days they speak one of the Vulcan dialects, other days they speak Romulan. Three weeks into the semester she surprises him by speaking in Common Andorian. His replies are choppy and poorly structured. After several minutes he gives up and admits to Uhura in his native dialect that his Andorian is sadly deficient.

She raises her eyebrows. "And you have no desire to practice?"

The corners of his mouth twitch up. "I fear that if we restrict ourselves to Andorian during our work hours we will accomplish very little. However, practice would be beneficial. Perhaps you can join me for lunch tomorrow and we can practice as we eat?"

A slow smile spreads across her face. "That sounds like fun."

Spock cannot help but concur. It does sound like fun.

Their lunch goes so well that they decide to make it a weekly engagement. As long as Spock is in the office he feels obliged to keep their conversations focused on the tasks at hand. Their lunches are the one time in the week when Spock feels entirely comfortable forgetting about work. He is pleased to finally have the opportunity to get to know Uhura not merely as a cadet, but as a person.

At first they meet for their lunches in one of the dining halls on campus. But Spock finds that he prefers a more private atmosphere. They soon begin meeting for lunch at several small restaurants not far from campus.

"So," she asks one day in late October, as they share a meal at an Indian restaurant, "do you have any plans for Thanksgiving?"

He swallows his bite of Aloo Palak, and replies, "I shall be joining my uncle and his family in Seattle."

"Oh? I didn't realize you had any family here on Earth." She takes a bite of her samosa.

"Yes. My mother's brother, his wife, and their two daughters. One of my cousins is also recently married. I was obliged to attend her wedding over the summer."

Uhura gives him a pointed look. "I take it you don't much care for your uncle and his family."

She has learned to read his expressions and inflections more quickly than any of his other friends. He assumes that her prior experience living among Vulcans gives her an advantage, but he admits the possibility that she may simply be more insightful than his other friends. "I do not. Our personalities are highly incompatible. I visit them every year for Thanksgiving out of a sense of obligation to my mother. And they tolerate my yearly visits for the same reason."

"That's too bad," she says. "If you got along better they would have provided a great forum to explore human culture with greater depth."

"Perhaps." He nods. "However, I have found ample opportunities to investigate human culture with my friends, whose company is vastly preferable to my uncle's family."

"Hmm. I was wondering--are friendships between Vulcans very different than they are between humans?" She sips her lassi.

"From what I understand there is considerably less jesting between Vulcan friends, but the relationships are similar in most other respects."

Her eyebrows shoot up. "_From what you understand_?"

With a sudden inexplicable lurch in his stomach, he realizes just how much he has given away.

"Do you mean," she continues, "that you've never had any Vulcan friends?"

He looks down at his plate. There is no logical reason for his discomfort, but he nonetheless perceives a twinge of embarrassment. "No. When I was a boy, my peers looked unfavorably on me due to my Human heritage. Perhaps adult Vulcans would not have harbored such an illogical prejudice had I remained on Vulcan long enough to form adult friendships; however, I have witnessed some evidence to the contrary."

"Spock! That's horrible!" Her brows knit in an obvious show of concern.

"Do not allow it to trouble you. I have never had any difficulties forming friendships here on Earth."

The corner of her mouth tilts upward. "Except with your relatives."

His own lips twitch in return. "There are always exceptions."

He is grateful that she ceases to probe his relationships back on Vulcan. At the end of their meal, as they exit the restaurant, she says, "You know--if you ever get tired of spending Thanksgiving with your relatives in Seattle, you could always come with me to my parents' house in Nairobi."

"Indeed?" He raises an eyebrow. "Do you have the authority to invite guests to your parents' home?"

She smiles and shrugs. "Sure I do."

He stands still, his mind turning over the fascinating prospect of seeing Uhura in her native environment. But no matter how appealing the prospect is, she is his subordinate and a cadet. Such a visit would be inappropriate.

"I appreciate the offer," he says. "But my mother would be disappointed if I do not maintain my engagement with her brother."

She looks him in the eyes, her beaded earrings dancing in the breeze. "I understand. Maybe next year."

"Perhaps." As they walk slowly back to campus, the prospect of spending a holiday with Uhura and her family grows increasingly appealing. But he cannot alter his plans. At least, not this year.

***

It is the twenty-first of December, and, for the most part, the dormitories are already empty, the semester having ended on the eighteenth. For the second time this year Spock finds himself walking through the corridor of the dormitory and chiming the door of Cadet Uhura's quarters.

"Come in!" she calls over the intercom.

The door slides aside, and Spock steps inside. "Hello, Cadet Uhura," he says from behind the partition that obscures the entryway, just in case she isn't decent.

"Commander! Hello! Come on in."

He steps around the partition, and sees Uhura standing beside an open duffel on her bed, which appears to be only half-packed. The other side of the room is in a state of tremendous disarray with clothes, PADDs and blankets tossed haphazardly across the bed and even the floor. It seems that Uhura's statement at the beginning of the semester regarding her roommate's habits was not exaggerated.

"Excuse the mess," she says with a smile, folding a pair of slacks and putting them into her duffel. "Gaila was in a hurry to catch her shuttle. She's spending her holiday at some sort of singles' resort."

"An interesting choice."

She laughs as she continues packing. "Gaila's an interesting person. So, what brings you here, Commander?"

He toys with the tiny package in his hands, his face feeling suddenly warm. "I believe that on Earth it is customary to exchange gifts with one's friends at the conclusion of the year." He extends his arm, holding out the minute box wrapped in shiny red paper. "This is for you."

Uhura halts her package and stares with wide eyes at the small package. "Commander… I…" She looks up to meet his eyes, wearing the soft mysterious smile that he has only seen on four other occasions. "Thank you."

She takes the package, and carefully peels open the red paper, exposing the plain white box inside. She opens the box to reveal the data chip inside. "What is it?"

"Earlier this semester you expressed an interest in learning more about Vulcan music. I have assembled an historical survey of major Vulcan composers spanning nearly one thousand years. The chip contains over two hundred hours of audio recordings, along with historical and biographical annotations."

She clutches the data chip as if it were something precious that she dares not lose, and continues to wear her mysterious smile. "Thank you. This is perfect."

Her eyes dart back up. "Do you really think of me as a friend?"

As always, Spock appreciates her frankness. "Yes. I do."

For a moment she looks down at her hands, and then a new expression transforms her features. She meets his eyes again with what he can only describe as a look of bold confidence. "I didn't know you celebrated Christmas, or I would've gotten something for you in return."

Before he can tell her that it is of no importance, she continues. "But fate's on our side today. Before heading home I'm taking an overnight trip to Mexico City for the annual Jazz Under the Stars Festival tonight. I bought two tickets hoping I could get a friend to come with me, but no one was free."

She walks over to her desk and picks up a thin plastic strip. She holds it out to him. "So… I still have an extra ticket. I'd like to give it to you."

Both of his eyebrows climb upward, and his eyes dart between the outstretched ticket and her steady gaze. "You would like me to accompany you to the Jazz Festival?"

"Yes. I never would have thought to invite my boss, but since we're friends now… I thought you might like to join me?"

He ponders the proposition for several moments, and her confident gaze never falters from his face. He has never engaged in social outings with cadets before. But, as he stated earlier, he genuinely does think of Uhura as a friend. Under the circumstances he can see nothing wrong with accepting her invitation.

He reaches out to take the ticket. "Yes. I would enjoy accompanying you to the Festival."

She lets out a long breath, as if she has been holding it in. "Great. Wonderful. That's… that's great. I'm catching the shuttle to Mexico City in two hours. How about you meet me at the shuttle-port? I need to finish packing, and I'll call my hotel and see if I can get you a room. OK?"

He nods. "That is acceptable. I shall go pack an overnight bag."

They say goodbye, and Spock begins his walk back to the Officers' apartments wondering what exactly he has just gotten himself into.

They arrive in Mexico City in the early evening, and after dropping their bags off at their hotel, they go to a restaurant for dinner. For the first time they talk only in Federation Standard as they eat. There is no work, there is no language practice. There are only two friends enjoying an evening out together.

He has never seen Uhura so relaxed and happy. It is highly agreeable. He watches the way her earrings dangle and twist as she drinks her wine. Tonight her earrings are intricate webs of amber beads woven together with delicate gold links. They compliment the warm glow of her skin perfectly.

"You know," she says, running her hand through her loose hair as they leave the restaurant, "I think this is the first time I've ever seen you out of uniform."

He glances down at his dark gray trousers and white sweater--one of the few non-uniform outfits he possesses. "I believe you are correct."

She is wearing blue jeans and a thick maroon sweater that hangs down past her hips. The evening is pleasantly cool--he judges it to be approximately seventeen degrees Celsius. Ideal conditions for an outdoor concert.

When they arrive at the festival, he is surprised to find that rather than the expected concert arena, it takes place in a sprawling green park, dotted with various stages and vendor booths. Together they wander through the crowds, occasionally stopping to sit or stand on the thick green grass near one of the stages to listen to a set.

Spock has always been intrigued by jazz. All Vulcan music is rigidly structured and mathematically arranged--no potential for improvisation is ever allowed. In contrast, jazz is utterly reliant on the improvisational skills of the performers. It is fascinating. No matter how logical his predictions for the flow of the piece are, he is inevitably wrong. Yet, even though the music defies logic, it remains aesthetically pleasing, and highly satisfying.

The festival is confusing and noisy, surrounded as they are by thousands of raucous people eating, drinking, and dancing to the music coming from the various stages. A few years earlier such a situation would have seemed chaotic and frustrating to Spock, but he assumes that he must now be more acclimatized to Human behavior than he once was, for he finds himself enjoying this glimpse into the varied and fascinating world of Human social interaction.

Uhura imbibes two more glasses of wine as the night deepens, and finally declares herself "slightly tipsy."

They find a stage where a band plays slow, soulful music, and take a seat on a grassy rise nearby.

Spock notices several couples nearby engaging in public displays of affection. He shakes his head. "I have never understood why Humans feel so few qualms about displaying their mating rituals in such a public fashion."

Uhura laughs. "They're just caught up in the emotion of the moment. I like it." She turns to look at him. "But then, you Vulcans barely even seem to _have_ mating rituals, you hide them so well."

His mind drifts to T'Pring. He has not thought of her in a very long time. "We most certainly have them."

"The Vulcan girl I lived with when I was fourteen told me that she was betrothed when she was seven. Is that a pretty common practice?" She pulls her knees in to her chest and wraps her arms around her bent legs.

"Fairly common," he replies. "The last time I read any statistics on the matter, it was reported that forty-eight percent of married Vulcans were betrothed as children."

"So what do the other fifty-two percent do?" She smiles sleepily and rests her chin on her knees.

This turn in their conversation is odd, but Spock sees no harm in improving her understanding of Vulcan culture. "They engage in what are known as _choice-matches._ Generally, as un-betrothed Vulcans near an age at which they must marry," he chooses to leave out the unpleasant biological details, "they turn to their friends and family for assistance in finding a suitable match. Once they become sufficiently acquainted with the possible candidates, they determine who among them will make the most compatible match and enter into an engagement. Then, eventually, they marry."

"So even as adults, Vulcans rely on their friends and family to help them choose a mate?"

"Not always." Her gaze is intense, and he looks away, toward the band performing onstage. "In a small number of unions the involved parties solicit no advice, but rather discover their choice-mates on their own, and enter into engagements without any advice or consent from anyone but themselves. This is the rarest of all types of Vulcan marriages." He refrains from telling her that his parents' marriage was just such a match.

"I like that." He can hear her smile without even looking at her face. "That must be the Vulcan equivalent of falling madly in love."

Now he does turn to look at her. Her eyes are shining in the dim light, and her expression seems dreamy and faraway. He assumes it must be a result of her mild inebriation.

"So," she raises her head, "have you started looking for your choice-mate, yet?"

For a moment Spock ponders the possibility that she might be flirting with him. And that very possibility fills him with a highly illogical surge of excitement. He turns away from her gaze again.

"No," he says flatly. "I am betrothed."

She does not reply for a long time. Though the sounds of the band and the crowd continue to fill the air, Spock has a distinct impression of being enveloped in silence.

"Oh," she finally says, in a soft, almost-choked voice. "I just thought that since your parents had a less traditional marriage, they wouldn't have… you wouldn't be…"

"I understand. My father may have chosen a non-traditional marriage for himself, but he desired that I follow all Vulcan traditions to the best of my ability. That included betrothing me in the traditional manner when I was seven years old."

Silence once more descends. It seems as if a thick barrier has somehow been inserted between them, and Spock has no idea how to remove it. He studies Uhura intently, but her eyes remain fixed on the band. All the joy and relaxation has vanished from her face, and it now seems that she wears a blank, impassive mask.

Finally, she is the one to break the silence. "May I ask you a personal question?"

"You may."

"What's her name?" Her request is simple, yet it feels heavy, as if she carries a large burden behind her words.

"Her name is T'Pring."

She nods slowly, her eyes still locked on the band. "What is she like?"

"I--" The question is unexpected, and he is uncertain of how to answer. "I am not certain," he finally says. "I have not spoken to her in more than eight years."

Now Uhura's head snaps around to look at him, her eyes dancing with light. "Why not?"

"I saw no purpose in it."

"No purpose? _No purpose?_" The pitch of her inquiry rises precipitously. "You have to talk to her. How else are you going to know if you're actually compatible? How will you know if you have plans and goals that will mesh? You have to get to know her. It's crucial!"

Spock has never seen her speak with such passionate intensity about anything before. "Your suggestions do have some merit."

"You're damn right they do! It would be completely illogical to commit to spend your life with someone without even knowing if you were compatible."

He nods slowly. "Perhaps you are correct. I shall spend some time considering your suggestion."

"Good." She stretches her legs out and leans back onto her elbows. She tips her head back and stares up at the star-filled sky. "I'd hate to see you end up with a wife you don't get along with."

Spock continues to study Uhura's face, but it is impossible to determine the emotions behind her words. "I appreciate your concern."

"You're welcome. That's what friends are for." He detects a slight quaver in her voice as she says the word _friends._

After another moment of silence, she says, "I'm getting tired. When this set ends, let's go back to the hotel."

"That is acceptable."

Uhura tips her head back toward the stage to watch the band performing, and Spock shifts his gaze to do the same.

He tries to simply enjoy the experience of listening to the music with his friend, but he cannot stop himself from wishing--just for a moment--that she could be something more.

~The End~

**Author's Note:** Thanks for reading! I am already working on a sequel--and yes, things will heat up between Spock and Uhura quite a bit in the sequel--but I'm also crazy busy right now so it might be a couple of weeks before I can start posting. Just keep your eyes open for it and it'll be up sooner or later.


End file.
